


call it a night

by kuchi



Category: South Park
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 05:50:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15790230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuchi/pseuds/kuchi
Summary: Stan scoots up on his pillow and leans against the headboard so he can type better. Something sexy. Right. Type something sexy to Kyle.





	call it a night

**Author's Note:**

> it's ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ time

Stan's body has been stiff the whole day. He thinks he slept wrong on it last night, maybe. It doesn't give even when his head hits the pillow. He's still tired as hell from work, or from the weather (growing up in a perpetual snow day tends to make you shit at dealing with city summers.) He could probably pass out right now - but the light is on.

Kyle has always been the one getting it, these past few days. With his ass backwards sleeping schedule.

Stan hasn't spent a night alone, in his own place, since the first night here with Kyle, which is a little bit insane. They can't do the fucking marriage routine yet. Not when they  _just_ started attempting the relationship thing.

(Can they?)

The word _sleepover_  helps Stan keep his wits a little bit more. They can have continuous, never-ending sleepovers. Sure.

He lets his limbs relax, as much as they will. Feels them melt into the mattress that smells like his best friend.

The usual sight would be this: Kyle's back to him, a steady rise and fall, paler than usual against the dark blue sheets. It's too hot for shirts.

Especially when they have to be put back on.

The idea strikes him just as he's about to give up scrolling through random shit on his phone and call it a night. It's half past midnight so Kyle is probably still awake, more awake than Stan at any rate. He's in South Park for a family thing, staying the night to avoid driving during a thunderstorm. He had planned it ahead, grudgingly, whining about insufferable cousins and refreshing the weather app ten times in a row.

Well - he could probably use something to lift his mood right now. What's wrong with starting a little bold? Stan takes out his phone and finds Kyle's name, second on his list of recent contacts. He types a message and hits send, quickly, before he can regret it.

Kyle has never been much of a texter. God knows why the fuck someone would actually prefer  _calls_  in this day and age, but Stan thinks it's because half of Kyle's interest in a conversation relies on the immediate gratification of a reaction; if it isn't urgent, it waits until they are face to face. His texts, by contrast, are surprisingly clipped.

Kyle replies,  _just getting in bed. why?_

Perfect timing. Stan scoots up on his pillow and leans against the headboard so he can type better.

Something sexy. Right. Type something sexy to Kyle.

His fingers hover above the screen. Truthfully he doesn't know what the fuck has been going on with the two of them the last couple of weeks - for Stan it's a haze of instinct, of sheer determination, of finding out how much you can like something,  _want_  something that you've never imagined until it's right in front of you.

It's  _Kyle_ , which makes it crazy. It's Kyle, which makes it safe.

This has the potential to be freaky or embarrassing, but probably nothing Stan can't overcome if it fails horribly. He's just going to go for it.

 _dude remember when u said sexting was stupid_  
_well_  
_I'm here to prove you wrong :-)_

He holds his breath for a second - three messages in a row is a little much for him but he's excited, already.

The dots pop up instantly. Kyle writes:  _oh really? pretty bold assertion_

Stan smiles to himself. That's an invitation. And a little hubris is going to get to Kyle's ego, which is going to get to Kyle's dick.

 _yeah_  
_im gonna get you so hot and bothered_  
_barely even trying as usual :-)_

Kyle is surprisingly polite in reply:  _Hah. Convince me_  
  
Stan is happy to oblige. Part of him is still thrilled from the blatant invitation. It's still weird thinking of Kyle like this.  _that's the spirit,_ he writes, with a row of winking faces for good measure. A stupid little addition that just makes him more giddy.

Kyle comes back with,  _And what if I get you first?_

Interesting. Stan has to admit the thought sends a minor jolt through him - he hadn't even considered it. Kyle and sexting do not go together, as far as he's aware. But the challenge in Kyle's tone is long familiar territory.

_dude its gonna be you who gives in first as usual  
I'm probably gonna make you cum, you know that?_

Kyle says: _What, through the fucking phone?_

Stan laughs out loud.  _why not?_

Kyle writes,  _I really doubt you can_

 _Try me,_ Stan writes back. Another idea pops into his head, and he types quickly.  _You beg you lose._ He waits before clarifying, _as in say please_

Kyle's text bubble pops up with a short  _fine_. More dots appear and disappear. Stan rushes to type before Kyle can finish his next thought. He wants the upper hand right from the start, though he doubts Kyle could beat him at this regardless - he spent a large portion of his teenage years a poet, after all. He can power through any kind embarrassment over this type of stuff.

 _think about it_  
_think about me kissing your neck, exactly how you like it?_  
_I never thought u could be so needy just from that_

He gets a long silence for that, and he can't help but fill it with Kyle's face. He decides it's a sign to continue. The thought of Kyle like that is working him up more than he wants to admit right now.

 _go on_ , Kyle writes finally.

It's short. The Kyle in Stan's head is already fixed on the scant image created by those words, softening, closing his eyes. Stan's heart flutters; for all its innocence, the thought is uncharted territory for his imagination. He hasn't really had the time to sit down and daydream about Kyle in such a way, between all the  _doing_.

It makes him press his lips together, push the covers down.

Kyle doesn't have to know.  
  
_I know youre aching for it_ , - he swallows hard, quenching the embarrassment -  _for me_  
_How long have you thought about this? how many years?_

Stan tugs his lip with his teeth. That's testing it. Kyle is flighty, whenever anything near the subject comes up. Boxed up into himself. But now Stan can't unthink it: Kyle, younger and rougher and brasher and God, how did he think about it? How did he want Stan then, and is it the same now? How many times did he come, thinking about -

He's hard. When Kyle replies it just makes it worse:  _Long enough to win now_

Stan breathes out in surprise. What's the thing people say about how much more ballsy someone is behind a screen?

 _You're full of it_ , he writes.

 _Really?_ Kyle asks.

 _yup and you know it so dont be a smartass_  
_I'm gonna tease you until you can't take it, wont even have to touch that beautiful cock until u beg me to_

He knows exactly which part of that sentence is going to make Kyle's breath, (and maybe his disposition) falter. He closes his eyes and imagines it. Kyle retreats when it comes to his body just as resolutely as he attacks when it comes to anything else, and right now, he's taking fucking years to type just a few words.

Finally _: getting somewhere_

(Definitely typed one-handed, Stan decides.)

Direct questions are probably the way to go from here on out. Make him engage.

Stan pushes the covers completely off and leaves his hand at his waistband.  _What do you want me to do?_ he writes. And follows it up with his heart thudding:  _have u ever thought about me fucking you?_

They haven't gotten anywhere near that yet, so he has some element of surprise on his side. He holds his breath, hoping, of course, that Kyle _has_ thought about it. Kyle takes another whole minute before he answers, which is answer enough. Stan feels himself grow harder.

 _Guess you could_  
_how exactly?_

Stan smothers a smile on his pillow even as his brain is suddenly pounding, too. Kyle can never help himself from answering a question.

He tries to gather his thoughts.

 _I'll get u ready good and slow_  
_Open you up for me, my fingers inside you and my mouth on your cock_  
youre _hard already, arent u?_

More silence. Maybe he's embarrassing himself, or maybe Kyle is jerking off.

 _maybe_ , comes Kyle's flippant, useless reply.

God, that's frustrating. He changes tack.  _or I'm behind you instead..._  
  
_Inconsistent much?_

Stan can pretty much hear Kyle scoff through that comment, and he sighs a laugh, using the break in concentration to push his hand into his pajamas now. He can tell this is getting to Kyle just by the sporadic replies. They haven't been doing this long; he doesn't  _actually_  know what effect half the stuff that's rolling around in his head is going to have; but that image is there now, Kyle pliant and yielding under his hands; it's a good image. He works off that.

 _my whole body pressed right up to yours_  
_I'll get you so close just with my hands, my mouth on your neck_  
_but never too close_  
_and my aching cock against you til you cant keep still and you break and you pull me close and beg me to fill you up_

Okay. Uh. He needs to get a hold of himself.   
  
Kyle replies:  _and what? you think you're gonna get me with this... foreplay?_

God, fuck him. Stan could guarantee how flustered he'd be if he was here right now, hearing those things, he  _swears_  it.

 _I think youre already touching yourself,_ he types out, a hand running over his own cock. He sets up a lazy rhythm.

 _Youre stalling,_ comes the reply.

 _You didnt answer_  
_do you want me to fuck you like that?_  
_you only have to ask for it_

And Kyle waits an eternity before he writes:  _God. fuck_

And Stan writes: _yeah?_

And Kyle writes:  _yeah you can fuck me_

Stan's hands shake a little when he types.  _is that an admission of defeat I see? :-)_  
  
_No,_ comes the instant reply.  _Not begging. Letting you know_

Damn it.

_Still goign  
Are you_

Stan wants to tear his own hair out, but Kyle just wrote  _yeah you can fuck me_ , like it's not something that could make Stan's dick implode or something, so he keeps his hand where it is, trying to breathe evenly. It - it's okay. It's not something he hasn't heard before.

But it's Kyle. He knows Kyle. Guarded and commanding and careful  _Kyle_  wants to - would  _let_  - Stan fuck him and he just said it, right there, a momentous kind of trust given as easy as a hi or goodnight. The only thing that keeps Stan's heart at bay, stops it glowing bright and weirdly protective for his favourite friend, is the fact that those words are pushing him punishingly close to the edge.

He needs to keep it together. His strokes become tentative.

He cannot lose it right now, not when Kyle seems finally ready to buckle.

One more attempt could do it, now that he's definitely worked up. Stan thinks about what they've already done, his mind racing. Something all for Kyle, all about Kyle. So Stan can just - focus on the worldbuilding or something, not get sidetracked by what it would feel like for him.

He goes for a clear trend of the last few days.

 _Of course_ , he replies. Then,  _i probably wont even have to go that far_

The single question mark he receives in reply is probably a good indication of Kyle's impatience now. It shouldn't take much more.

_youd be done even if i just sucked you off again_

Kyle takes barely a second this time:  _Go dyes suck me off_

Two typos in a row. He'll take it.

_are you close? you know you can cum right? just think about it. ask me for it.  
If i was there i'd make you cum in my mouth_

Again, the rushed reply.  _fuck yes_.  _Youre fucking perfect_

Stan takes a deep breath, heart hammering. Obviously, he can tell what Kyle wants, what he thinks of these trysts, from the way he moans and the way he moves. But hearing it - or seeing it - in plain words, the blunt statement of his desire, makes Stan's pulse quicken unexpectedly. It's strange to be the subject of Kyle's attention like this. It's enticing, makes him yearn for more, for an indefinable kind of approval different from any that he's wished for before.

 _You know what u have to say,_ he writes, and then fists his hands. He can win and jerk off to his heart's content in just a minute.

_No._

It's instant. Stan actually grunts in frustration.

 _You're gonna suck me off and you're gonna lose like that_  
  
Huh? He writes,  _?_

 _I don't need to do anything to make you cum_  
_you're gonna do it all yourself if_ i _know you at all_

What?  _I'm gonna get myself off?_ Stan writes, puzzled out of his moment.

_If youre sucking my cock yeah_

Oh. Right. It dawns on him.

Shit - it's shit timing. He's too close for Kyle to be this cocky right now.

_It makes you so hard, doesn't it?_

He can just - play it cool.  _Well, yeah_. He types,  _cant deny that_

 _you'll take it so deep and perfect like you always do_  
youre _always so fukcing good to me_

Stan feels the heat curl his toes, spread like roots in the back of his neck. He didn't think Kyle was paying that kind of attention. He sits up on his elbow a little so the knowledge doesn't submerge him.

He writes,  _fuck yes I am_

Kyle seems to know that he’s found a hook.  _but it's not gonna be enough is it?  
_

Stan lies,  _I don't know what u mean,_ but he knows the evidence is already there, tucked away in the delirious moments with Kyle in this apartment; in front of the forgotten TV, on the rug that burns if you get tackled on it, in this bed.

Kyle ignores his bluff.  _you're hungry for it_  
_beg me_

(Stan is going to fucking ruin him for this.)

_what are you gonna beg me for?_

Stan drops the phone and runs his hand over his face for a moment.

He picks it up again and types  _nope_

Kyle is relentless.  _what do you need? I can give it to you_  
  
Fuck.

 _you act like you're doing me the favor_  
_but I can tell whats really going on, you want to be lost in it so bad_  
_just ready and_   _open for me_

It's crass and gratifying, the way those words wash over him, because Kyle is tugging out something visceral from the back of his mind, something Stan hadn't thought him capable of, not  _yet_ , not by the way he still trembles and stammers when he asks for such a  _favor_.

Kyle doesn't budge, seems to know exactly why Stan isn't rushing to type anything. _I'm right aren't i? I can see it in your eyes when youre blowing me all respectably. Are you touching your cock?_

Jesus. What the fuck kind of word choice is that anyway? Is this a fucking school report?

 _Yeah,_ he writes anyway. Yeah, why the fuck not.

_do you wanna be used?_

Stan swallows down harsh breaths. He's not going to say it, no fucking way.  _  
_

_answer the question_

Jesus Christ. His hands are slippery.

It comes again in a rush, three choppy and separate messages:  _its okay if you do_  
_because I want that too_  
_I want to take what_ i _need from you so bad_

And then Kyle can't wait either, apparently. Stan picks up on the second ring, the phone almost falling out of his hand in the frantic few moments it takes for him to press the button down to answer. "Fuck you, seriously," is the first thing that rushes out of his mouth, chased by a mumble of "fuck me, please. Fuck my mouth. Make me gag. I need to feel it." He drags long, swift strokes right down to the base of his cock, the pace more erratic with each obscene thought said out loud.

Kyle's shaky breathing on the other end dissolves into a desperate, guttural kind of moan. God. That's him, right there, that was  _him_. "Speed up," he says; his voice is hoarse and wavering and he sounds nervous as fuck. "Want you to come thinking about that," - and then Stan doesn't have to imagine the sound of anything anymore, wet and slick and fast, and above it all, the rush of Kyle's rasping breaths.

Needless to say, he feels a little bit shameless after. "I lost," he says, mildly stunned. The heat in his face and his groin seeps through his body, strangely satisfying; the warmth under his skin finally properly outdoing the warmth above it.

Kyle coughs. He says, "Yeah, you did." There's a pause while he catches his breath with a jittery laugh.  _There's_  the regular Kyle. "I didn't think you would," he says, voice high with surprise.

Stan can salvage something. "You're gonna jack off again, aren't you?"

Kyle ignores him. That's a conclusive yes. He laughs and shuts his eyes, and places the phone on his chest. His cheeks are so hot he almost can't feel them.

Kyle is trying to school his breaths on the other end of the line.

"Tomorrow," Stan promises recklessly, making his voice low.

He can hear Kyle swallow. "Yeah," he says, barely above a whisper. "All of it. Go to sleep, yeah?"

Stan does with immense satisfaction.


End file.
